


Saturday Come to Meeting

by Samarkand12



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samarkand12/pseuds/Samarkand12
Summary: When a genial Evil Mayor says "Come on over", you go...





	1. Chapter 1

_Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Mutant Enemy and the fertile mind of Joss Whedon_

*****

So this was where evil mayors lived.

Faith stared at Mayor Wilkins' house. She hadn't known what to expect when she had found his invitation in her apartment's mailbox. An actual invitation on stiff white paper and that gold braid stuff around the edges. Never even got a cheap-ass Hallmark birthday card before. What she had imagined was some big mansion with a wrought-iron fence topped with spikes right out of the Addams Family. Guy had to be crazy rich, right? Only, the address turned out to be in a quiet neighborhood that looked to be one of the older ones in town. The house beyond the actual white picket fence and lawn was a--what do they call them?--Victorian like the other ones in these streets shaded by tall trees. Larger than that bitch Buffy's place, but not huge . Painted a warm green, Mayor Wilkins' was a collection of gables and round towers with a double-decker porch and second-floor balcony that ran around two sides of the house.

It even had a freaking porch swing.

Faith glanced around, nervous. The dress had been a mistake. Coming over in her usual leathers, denims, and boots hadn't seemed right. She had dug out an outfit from the girly clothes the Mayor had given her. The ones she had shoved in the back of her closet, instead of throwing them out. She had chosen a canary-yellow sundress that went down to her knees and flat sandals, with a tortoiseshell barrette holding her hair back in a ponytail. Weird wearing it--pants at least were more like armor. Any guy could yank up the hem on a skirt. No control. Still, he was the boss. Might get a thrill--not that kind of thrill--of her being all sweet and light. But out here in this respectable nabe, it was like anyone looking out would see some teenage pro coming to give the Mayor a game of Daddy Dearest. Faith added a little slayer speed to her walk up the brick-paved path. She didn't stray off it, even though the lawn made her want to curl her toes in the lush grass. The doorbell ding-donged with a cheery ring.

"Faith, so glad you could come!" Mayor Wilkins was casual--for him. Shirt sleeves rolled up and slacks instead of suit pants. Tie was still knotted at his collar. "And you look as pretty as a picture."

"Thought you'd like it, sir," she replied, shyly adjusting the straps of her dress.

"Golly, no need to be formal," Mayor Wilkins said, stepping aside in the way smart Sunnydalers invited people into their homes. "You're a guest now. Call me Rich."

"Yeah, the other way might be weird," Faith said.

"Kids these days. Always seeing the naughty in innocent words. Can't even say gay anymore." Mayor Wilkins' face clouded over. "Oh, darn. I'm sorry about this, Faith, but I need you to do an errand."

"What--" Faith accepted the crossbow he handed her. That kind of errand. She followed the finger he pointed to-- "You want me to grease a squirrel?"

"It is digging up my lawn." Mayor Wilkins pronounced the rodent's sentence as if he was ordering a crucifixion. Caught, the squirrel foraging for buried nuts cringed.

"You're the boss," Faith said with a shrug.

TWANG!

*squeak*

"Thank you." Wilkins fetched the late squirrel impaled on the quarrel. He brushed the grass he had stepped on back into smoothness. "The way a man cares for his lawn tells you everything about him. Somebody lazy enough to let pests and weeds take hold is lazy in other things."

"Want me to dump it in the garbage?" Faith asked.

"Squirrels are pretty good eating." The Mayor studied the late squirrel like it was a steak on special. "Back in my time, squirrels in the larder and a nice fat buck were all a family needed to get through a winter. I was a right devil with a slingshot."

"Guess they didn't have Mickey D's then." Yuck. Eating squirrels? Never saw the Mayor as a hick.

"Nasty stuff, full of grease and preservatives. Awful for the complexion." Wilkins tossed the squirrel back onto the lawn. "Besides, this one is a little too scrawny for a decent meal."

Faith gulped when the grass curled back and...absorbed the dead tree rat. She hoped the burp after was from her imagination.

Man did not fuck around when he posted those KEEP OFF THE GRASS signs.

"Wouldn't want to spoil your appetite." Wilkins clapped his hands together. "Now, who wants some iced tea and pie?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a genial Evil Mayor says "Come on over", you go...

The pie was unbelievable.

Faith's fork scraped an empty plate for the third time. Wilkins chuckled when she mutely offered up her plate for another slice of blueberry heaven. They sat in the kitchen at the back of the house. At first, she had worried that he'd have her sit in the front parlor. It was full of overstuffed chairs and couches with those doily things and claws carved on the bottoms of the legs. She thought Wilkins would have gone nuts if she spilled crumbs on the upholstery or the Persian rug. Instead, he brought her into the kitchen with only a stern commandment not to put your elbows on the table little missy. It was a large, homey room with bright yellow wallpaper and a big wooden table carved from pine. The stovetop and fridge were right out of the 60's, if a lot better taken care of than the appliances in the crappy apartments her ma used to rent. Although there was a microwave, proving he wasn't completely retro. The windows looked out onto the back yard. His place was like a mullet: short on the front and sides, busy in the back. The high hedges all around the yard contained everything from gardens to a no-kidding white gazebo.

She sipped her fifth glass of iced tea. Nothing like the Nestle mix she was used to. Tasted like it was brewed from the "real leaf", as her old Watcher would have said. Just enough sweet to cut the tart. A little zonked from her sugar high, Faith's gaze fixed on the only odd thing in the room. There was a long marble counter along one wall with swivel stools tricked out in red leather and brass studs in front. Soda fountain spouts arched up from behind like swan's necks. Hanging on the wall behind was a framed black and white photo of two people eating an ice cream sundae sitting in front of a counter just like that one. One was-- Wow. Mayor Wilkins in an old-fashioned white suit and a straw hat. The other was a pretty dark-haired woman in those long dresses and blouses Faith had seen the few times she'd cracked open a history book. They were caught feeding each other with metal spoons. Laughing.

"My Edna Mae," Wilkins said, dishing out another slice. "We met each other at Perrell's Parlor in aught two. I bought the counter from Mr. Perrell for our first anniversary, so we could always have a sundae."

"Talk about a present." Faith bit into another slice and moaned. "Most romance my boyfriends had was not making me sleep in the wet spot. First wife?"

"First, last and only. Edna was the best thing I ever did." Wilkins' permanent grin faded around the edges. "Might say the worst, come to that. I couldn't resist her, though. Such a spitfire! Widow, you see, at twenty. Her family were Saints out of Provo, had her marry young to some old coot of a Mormon."

"And you aren't old?" Faith smirked.

"Watch your tongue around your elders," Wilkins said, waving his fork in mock warning. "I've always said you're only as young as you feel. Edna, soon as her husband was in the ground after a fever took him, lit right out of Utah. She wouldn't stand to be married off again. Now, understand, for a woman in that time, it took gumption. A week after we met, she told me 'I aim to marry you, Mr. Mayor, if you're fool enough to court me'."

"Must've had a lot of competition," Faith pointed out.

"Oh, many a man younger than me had a cap set on her." Wilkins laughed. "She led them about to make sure I didn't take her for granted. By golly, I could only get one dance an evening with the suitors flocking around her. Couldn't stand that, so I had them eaten."

"Way to narrow down the field, Rich." Faith licked her fork clean.

"Aren't you a hungry girl!" Wilkins rested his chin on the heel of his hand, staring at the picture. "We married on aught three in the little church on the Hellmouth where Sunnydale High is now. Darn shame, I couldn't take her on a proper honeymoon. Pact I made keeps me within twenty miles of Sunnydale. We made do, had a good enough life near up to the end."

"Never much wanted to get out of Boston myself," Faith said, pushing aside her plate. "Southie's a pit, but it was home."

"I'd had enough of wandering when I founded this town." Wilkins washed up the plates before putting them in a drying rack. "I packed up from the family homestead in Ohio soon as I could. Full of vinegar to head west. After twenty years as a surveyor for the railroads, though, a man wants a quiet life. I ended up with a little more than I expected when I came here, but this is America. A man can make an opportunity if he has brains enough."

"Want, take, have's worked for me," Faith said.

"I like seizing the moment. Usually by the throat, with the dagger punching up through the ribs." Mayor Wilkins dried his hands. "I think that's enough pie. I have a roast ready for dinner, and wouldn't want to spoil even a slayer's appetite."

"That's a while from now," Faith said. "I'm okay with just, you know, hanging."

"I reckon a bored Faith is a grumpy Faith." Mayor Wilkins gestured out at the back yard. "I have the pitch set up. Fancy a game of horseshoes?"


	3. TtH • Story • Saturday Come to Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a genial Evil Mayor says "Come on over", you go...

"Another ringer," Mayor Wilkins said after her last horseshoe clanged around the stake. "You do know it's traditional to let your boss win?"

"Slowed down as much as I could." Faith untied the blindfold she had worn while playing the game by throwing over her shoulder. "You wanted me to throw the game, you should've told me."

"No, you won fair and square." Wilkins brightened. "Why don't we mix a little business and pleasure? There have been a few people on the night staff who've been thinking their dear old mayor isn't keeping an eye on their shenanigans. I can call over a few, bury them up to their necks--"

"Nah, that's not really fun," Faith replied. "For that kinda thing, I like it up close and personal. Go to work with the sharps."

"Altar's downstairs, blood gutters cleaned up," the Mayor chirped. "We can go through the butcher's block in the kitchen to see if anything strikes your fancy."

"This is all good." Faith weighed a horseshoe. "I'm not bored. Yeah, this is way lower gear than my usual speed, but spending time just us is-- Never played too many games that didn't have kilts and bullwhips in them. My ma never gave me toys or anything."

"Not even a doll at Christmas?" Wilkins frowned. "We didn't have the luxuries you young'uns have with your Playstations and such. Always something in the stocking from Santa, though."

"She gave me a box once." Faith bent the horseshoe into a pretzel.

"A child can have lots of fun with a cardboard box," Wilkins said. "Playing house was a favorite of my sisters."

"The wino was still in it," Faith said flatly.

"Some women shouldn't be mothers," Mr Wilkins said. "I am forever grateful mine, may she rest in peace, was a kind woman. I think someone needs to teach your ma a lesson!"

"She's been dead for five years, Rich." Faith crushed the remains of the horseshoe in her fist.

"You'd be surprised how you can get around that," Mayor Wilkins said with a wink, "with a good man, a shovel, and the right magic."

"Oh he-- heck no." Something about the Mayor was infectious. She couldn't even swear right. "I used to go 'round the cemetery on patrols to make sure she stayed planted."

"Gosh, didn't mean to put a frown back on there." The Mayor considered for a moment, then raised a finger in triumph. "Know what? Whenever I'm feeling blue, an hour spent playing with my trains cheers me up. Hardly ever have a chance to show them off these days."

Trains?

The Mayor guided her back into the house, up a stairway carpeted with a faded runner printed with flowers. A long hallway paneled in dark wood ran the length of the second floor. Wilkins went down the very end to open a trap-door leading to the attic. Most of the doors were closed. One, though, was opened a crack. Curious, Faith peered in. Pretty bare. A straight-backed wooden chair, a bed blanketed with one of those old patchwork quilts, a nightstand with a jug and a book on it. There were fresh flowers in the jug. Their scent drifted across the room, clean and sweet. Faith glanced down the hall. The Mayor was in the attic, thumping around. Slipping inside, she picked up the book. A photo album. Flip. Earliest pics were the Mayor standing around with a bunch of other guys in suits with shovels in their hands. Flip. Edna Mae, page after page. At the ice cream parlor, posing on the porch of what had to be this house, riding a bicycle in full skirts. Flip. Damn. In her wedding dress next to Mayor Wilkins. He actually looked shy. Flip. More pictures: in the passenger seat of one of those old cars, the Fords you saw in old movies, hand on a big hat with her hair blowing back. Flip flip flip, the pictures becoming sharper, Edna getting older. Her smile smaller. The Mayor never changing. On and one until-- Faith swallowed heavily. Old. Wrinkled. Asleep in this bed. No, she had seen too much to think that was asleep. The last photo was wrinkled as if water had dripped on it.

A hand spun her about. The Mayor snatched the album away.

The expression on his face was worse than looking right down the throat of the Hellmouth. Suddenly Faith was seven again, and she'd woken up her ma, and ma had that sour sweet smell on her breath and why did you wake me up you fuckin' brat my head's pounding and this was going to hurt--

Mayor Wilkins breathed deep. He locked up the album with one of those locking straps you saw bitches like Buffy use on their diaries. The rage disappeared. Just like that. Shuddering, Faith followed him out to the attic. Dammit, why did she always have to screw up? He'd invited her into his house. Spent time with her. And she was acting like a stupid spy-- The moment Faith's head cleared the lip of the trapdoor, every thought left her head but "holy shit!". The entire attic was one giant train set. A huge table covered in Astroturf ran from the gable at the front to a tiny round window in back. On it was an entire town and countryside, complete with everything from hills to forests to rivers plotted out in blue foil. The buildings were right out of movies about pioneer days. Hundred of model people and animals were scattered about going around their lives. Wicked! There was even a small crowd around a gallows with a man in the noose and a priest reading from a tiny Bible. Tracks ran everywhere, even small ones for trolley cars on the town streets. Several complete trains were parked by a big railyard off to one side. With a flick of a switch by a table covered with controls, the Mayor sent a locomotive--it even puffed out fake steam!--pulling cattle cars over a bridge and onto the main table.

"Fuck me dead!" Faith blushed. "Uh, I mean--"

"I'll ignore it for once." The Mayor planted a pillow-tick engineer's hat on his head. "You like it?"

"Love it." Faith looked closer at the train, and the little people in striped prison uniforms. "Hey, why are those cars filled with guys from jail?"

"Not jail. Camp." The Mayor sent a passenger train and freight train moving out. "Gift from some Germans in the thirties, after I did a little horse-trading on some scrolls. I guess it didn't help them in the end."

"This is the sh-- stuff." Faith laughed as several people scenes animated. A crowd in a park "danced" to a band "playing" in the bandstand. "It must have taken years to do all this. Dude, you're a geek."

"Guilty!" The Mayor pressed a button. A tiny loudspeaker sounded the artificial "snap" of the condemned man's neck when he fell down through the gallows. "Some days when life becomes a botheration, I'd come up here and work on things. Trains are good that way. People stumble around, and cars can go about anywhere, especially if you cut the brakes. Trains on rails go where they're supposed to."

"I could watch these forever." Faith paused. She plucked a small blonde model in a gingham dress out from a picnic scene. "Hey, Rich, I gotta idea for a new game."

"What?" The Mayor asked.

"'Tie The Bitch To The Tracks,'" Faith said, teeth glinting through bared lips.

"My favorite!" The Mayor leapt up. "Wait one second while I fetch my top hat and cloak!"


End file.
